


the sun in his lungs

by helo572



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angst, Character Death, Family, Family Dynamics, Implied/Referenced Brainwashing, M/M, Past Brainwashing, Reconciliation, Romantic Soulmates, Soul Bond, Soulmates, Terminal Illnesses
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-20
Updated: 2017-07-20
Packaged: 2018-12-04 14:45:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,627
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11557389
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/helo572/pseuds/helo572
Summary: Decades of conflict comes to its conclusion in the corn swollen fields of Scotland, with two old men sitting on the porch they built themselves, wondering how all of it led them to here.





	the sun in his lungs

**Author's Note:**

> [say something - a great big world & christina aguilera](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-2U0Ivkn2Ds)
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> hi everyone! this was originally an epilogue to a bonded reaper76 au where jack leads the charge in reconciling with gabriel after the fall of overwatch and after he is freed from what is headcanoned to be talon/the UN's brainwashing control as reaper. we just wanted healing old men, adopted sons and daughters and a happy ending. this is the..... sad ending to the happy ending.
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> my partner in this roleplaying endeavour was the lovely anthy, but i authored this epilogue myself. it has warnings for talk of illness and character death! enjoy x

It's not fire which takes him, this time. Instead: a cold chill which sweeps in with the winter of their twenty-third year in the house, rattling the floorboards with ice and at the gasps of air Gabriel takes one night. It’s like a man drowning: Jack’s woke up by thrashing, wheezing, he nearly reaches for the gun hidden in the bedside table before he realises Gabriel is pawing him uselessly, eyes wide and terrified in the dark.

 

Jack scrambles up, takes him by the shoulders to steady his shaking ones to no avail. He ignores the heart hammering in his chest, the anxiety which still claws at him, a lingering present from Overwatch and the war.

 

A sleep-addled yet urgent question, “Gabe, Gabriel, what’s wrong?”

 

He’d had a lingering cough since winter descended short of two weeks ago, announced by a downfall of snow. It covered the cornfields thick, like a blanket which smothered the stalks and the ground outside. They turned up the heat, curled up by the fire, watched old movies wrapped in other to ward off the chill.

 

“Can’t - ca -”

 

His fingers find Jack’s arms and he holds on, nails pinching his skin, chest heaving. Jack winces, stifles a sound of pain as Gabriel chokes on, “Can’t - breathe -” It dissolves into coughing, then quickly into dry heaving.

 

“Breathe with me,” Jack gasps out, he’s startled wide awake as a rush of sudden adrenalin. “Look - listen to me Gabriel, listen. Look at me.” He takes his face between his hands, careful not to brush fingers over his neck - and takes a deep, audible breath. “In - out. In - out. In -”

 

He tries, Jack is halfway through the third deep breath when Gabriel starts shaking his head, squeezing his eyes shut as his vision blurs. “Can’t - it’s n-not-”

 

Jack’s instincts are kicking in for treating a bad panic attack, yet, it couldn’t be. Too simple. The coughing, the fever, the headaches from the day’s prior. Gabriel had been adamant it was nothing serious, nothing a cup of tea and a rest couldn’t fix.

 

Stupid, stubborn old man.

 

He manhandles him up, grabs the puffer from the medicine draw on the way out to the truck from the last time of them caught bronchitis. They make it to the hospital with Gabriel’s lips turning blue in the passenger seat, trying not to succumb to panicking himself as he pulls up at the emergency. The farmhouse may be secluded, but the nearest town was only a few short minutes away, if he broke several laws on the drive over.

 

They take him in on oxygen and away from Jack, he manages to hold it all in sitting in a shitty hospital chair for _hours_ , until they say they’ve got him stable. He’s relieved at that, that he’s breathing, but not at the look in the nurse’s eyes.

 

“Mr Morrison?” he asks gently, clipboard hugged to chest and long black hair pulled back in a ponytail. “Gabriel is asking to see you, but - but the doctor would like to speak with you quickly first.”

 

She’s an older woman, greying hair and sympathetic smile, who meets him outside Gabriel’s room. She explains to him slowly Gabriel has pneumonia, common this time of year, but there have been complications with his diagnosis because of his age, as well as history with chronic health issues and weak immune system (which Jack translates as: the first time he died). He’s at risk for septic shock, their main concern, but treating the infection is the next concern. It’s hit him very hard, suddenly, and the rest of her explanations break off into nothingness as she leads him inside.

 

There’s Gabriel, in white like when he married him, the face he fell in love with covered with an oxygen mask. Jack would have laughed at how _pissed_ _off_ he looks, if not for the obvious frailness which has suddenly overtaken him. He looks small, or, that could be the largeness of the bed. The anxiety burrowing its way through Jack’s throat, making the room large and his sight small. Anything.

 

All he knows, he doesn’t like it.

 

“I’d - I’d like a few,” he says through a thick throat, stopping the doctor mid-sentence, “minutes alone with him.” He swallows, can’t stop staring. “Please.”

 

Jack sits down, takes Gabriel’s hands, and visibly winces when he brushes an IV needle. He takes one look at him, is about to apologise, then just breaks down into tears with his face pressed into the covers. Weakly, Gabriel’s hand follows him, strokes through his hair, turning it golden in places as he smooths it.

 

“Jackie,” he would finally croak out, muffled and quiet but of course Jack still hears him. “Shhh.”

 

Jack shakes his head into the covers, looking up stubbornly, wipes at his eyes as he quickly tries to collect himself. “No, no, I’m - I’m sorry Gabe. _Fuck_ .” There's a deep, shaky breath as he steadies himself, grips Gabriel’s hand to ground himself back to the present. _He’s here, he’s holding him, stop panicking._ “You’re okay. You’re okay.”

 

“Mmm.” His husband slowly turns face towards him, eyes half-lidded and tired.

 

Jack can't stop his lips from running, even with the man's brown eyes on him, “I’m sorry I didn’t - couldn’t… couldn’t _do_ anything, I didn’t know, I didn’t -”

 

Gabriel’s shaking his head, eyes falling closed, a tired request to just _stop_. Jack obliges, sniffs, gives his hand a squeeze. There's a weak squeeze back, he nearly loses it again. The bond hums beneath their entwined fingers in reassurance, a wave of emotion Gabriel cannot communicate right now, Jack feels it all the same.

 

“You’re going to be fine,” he says. “You’re going to get better, it’s just - just the winter. The cold. Never agreed with us, anyway, we’re too goddamn old.” He tries to laugh, but chokes off swallowing.

 

Again, Gabriel’s shaking his head, a tired sigh. He winces at he looks back at Jack, endless unspoken words in those brown eyes, Jack can’t understand an inch of them. The bond speaks to him but only in feeling - of sudden sadness, regret, and a deep layer of understanding. It scares Jack so much, nearly as much as the doctor re-entering the room.

 

She takes a seat opposite Jack across the bed, smiles at their intertwined fingers, at the tear tracks on Jack’s cheeks. Then at Gabriel, who gives her an understanding look in return. _They’ve already spoken_.

 

She checks the machines while Jack’s heart hammers in his chest, softly once again begins to explain that Gabriel’s consistently had low blood pressure since his botched resurrection (recorded official medical records as severe surgery), other mountains of health problems, underlying but now coming to light while treating this serious infection. Jack knew all this from Angela, didn’t know it meant pneumonia in its early stages would hit him this hard.

 

She keeps talking for quite a well, Gabriel nods off halfway through but jolts awake when she comes to a close: “We will take care of him as best we can, but you should prepare yourself. ” It’s the sudden death-grip Jack has on his hand which wakes him, the blankness in his eyes which steels him right back to reality. .

 

The doctor reeks of guilt, apologises to Gabriel, to Jack, the former waves her off. Stronger now, he takes Jack’s hand, rubs it, smoothing his fingers and his hands as he himself tries to breathe. He knows what dying feels like, he’s died before, he knew it as he drifted in the car feeling the heaviness in his limbs and tiredness behind his eyes. Laments it was so sudden, wants to laugh it’s probably happening because of how old he is.

 

They decide, eventually, with the whole world numb to Jack, the bond stuttering in both their chests, it’s best to take him back home. The doctors disagree, Jack fights, knows how much Gabriel’s spent in his life dying in rooms similar to this one: with Angela, Talon, Overwatch. Needs to be somewhere comfortable.

 

Finally he admits it to himself, in an emotional conversation with Jesse and Hanzo, that it’s the right thing to do. Cutting himself off will make it worse, and Jesse just insists through tears, “You have to _face it_ , Morrison. _Fuck_. You can’t let him do it alone. I won’t fucking let you.”

 

He just cries and eventually chokes out, “You’re right, I’m sorry, I’m so -” The (not so much anymore) kid just crushes him into a hug and doesn’t let go for a good long while.

 

The bond eases it, Jack spends hours awake at night tracing the lines on Gabriel’s chest to help him breathe, to make sure he is _still_ breathing. It’s slow, the septic shock which sets in slowly, the pneumonia which attacks his lungs worsens, nobody wants to wait. It’s selfish, Jack hates himself for wanting it.

 

They decide on a Monday -- the same day Jack met him in SEP, the same day Gabriel was inducted as Jack’s commander in the first Overwatch strike team, the same day which the archangel Gabriel guards with six steadfast wings all the way to heaven.

 

On the porch they sit, the two of them, Gabriel wrapped in a blanket on the porch chair, Jack standing next to him as he stares out into the corn. He can’t cry.

 

Jesse and Hanzo didn’t yesterday, the four of them bundled up in the main room in front of the fire. Old stories between them, memories and people, told off into the night. “Until next time, partner,” Jesse had said, hugged them both, lingered in the doorway until Hanzo took him arm in arm. Jack pretended not to notice the silhouettes of them both in Jesse’s car, curled up against one another, shoulders shaking. He closes the door on them, Sunday night, and tries to breathe.

 

“Sit down, Jackie.” He doesn’t sound any different, still the same gravelly voice with tinges of affection and fondness, just quiet. Like the world has sapped any and all from him, like when they first met again, on that balcony the day of Gabriel’s discharge. “Sit down with me.”

 

They watch the corn together, wrapped up in each other's’ arms. The bond says nothing, is only a comfort as it sings between them, a lullaby like a soft escort into the dark.

 

“I’m glad,” Gabriel begins, eventually. Jack swallows so thickly his eyes prickle. “that we bought this house.”

 

Jack huffs. “You bought it.” He doesn’t look at him, he can’t, not yet.

 

“I wanted it - always wanted it - to be ours. Something-” A tired sigh, a deep breath which rattles through Gabriel’s chest as he exhales. He coughs, Jack winces, swallows again. “-something I could hold. Show people. How much I loved you. They - they always asked me, Jackie, always. How in love we were.”

 

He huffs again, nodding along. “Pretty fucking in love.”

 

“And - and I’d tell them. Jack.” The name is thick on Gabriel’s tongue, too, like he can’t bring himself to say it. “The house. How we built it together - built us.” It occurs to Jack in this moment - that they are sitting in the exact same place he first found Gabriel when he showed up on this doorstep twenty-three years ago. “And how - how you stayed. With me. All these years. Just us - us together.”

 

“Don’t forget the corn.”

 

Gabriel laughs now, so much that he dissolves into coughing. Now Jack does look at him, shushing him, words of encouragement and love against his skin as he rides it out. There’s pain on Gabriel’s face, that Jack wipes away with his thumb as he breathes the bond between them. Gabriel settles down again, head tucked into Jack’s chest. Eyes are closed, he’s still smiling.

 

“And - and I do. I - do, Jack. I’m in love with you. I don’t - don’t think I ever....” Another cough, fear claws through Jack’s chest but Gabriel goes on in a whisper, “... ever stopped.”

 

He plants a kiss here in Gabriel’s hair, closing his eyes before he pulls away to ride out the wave of emotion which touches him. Blinks back tears as he looks back at his husband’s face.

 

“Me neither,” he says, softly. “I love you too, Gabriel, so-” His voice breaks, he squeezes his eyes shut in stubborn refusal to cry. “-so much. I love you _so much_.”

 

“Shhh,” a quiet soothing, a fragile hand comes to brush Jack’s face. Gabriel’s hands are cold, dry, but speak of gentle love all the same. “I know - I know you do.”

 

It’s simple, really. Jack always thought of dying as a big explosion of fear and pain and just _nothing_. All he knows is the battlefield, they have it mastered between them, of guns and knives and explosions. They could name you endless ways to die from each, violently, with nothing and everything left to lose.

 

The last time Gabriel died, the bond withered away into nothing, like it was yanked suddenly from his grasp and he went sprawling off into the abyss. Now it fades slowly, a receding light as if the sun were setting over the horizon, casting slow shadows across the ground. It keeps in time with the stalks, swaying from side to side in the wind. They have been out here for hours, Gabriel knew when it was time, Jack steadied his hands to seal the love letter to his husband with a final kiss.

 

It’s peaceful, a sense of relief washing across him as Gabriel exhales deeply, clearly, and then he lies still in Jack’s arms. Jack breathes out, too, then cries.

 

The corn is his witness as they conclude this ballad, finally, of Jack Morrison and Gabriel Reyes not with a bang but with a sigh, a smile on dead lips. The funeral is simple, too, a ceremony which lasts most of the day, only because of the eulogies delivered by the mountains of people who loved Gabriel Reyes. It’s humbling, to know Jack shared him with so many others, who _let_ him love the most wonderful, loving, giving man on the face of the Earth.

 

The holos honour him a hero, writing for weeks following the announcement of his passing about the mountains of achievements in his and Overwatch’s name. The twisting of their story into fiction and lies, the good man Gabriel Reyes _is_ and the generation of children he inspired.

 

It is impossible to feel truly, completely alone. In the house, too. There are visitors constantly and always, a stream of people in the guest bedroom and wandering the cornfields. Jesse brings his grandson, there’s the couple from down the road with their first baby, the mailman stops by for tea with his dog. And there’s the bond, which hadn’t quite left him - a comforting weight in his chest when he smiles.

 

He can still feel him, on those bad nights, wrapped in the covers of their shared bed and bathed in the colors of the walls they built together. He never truly will leave him, Jack knows that, and finds peace in the notion he will never be alone again.

 

 _Ibi de gloria mundi._ The slogan which brands Overwatch, world protectors, a power which pushes humanity and omnics alike to their greatest.

 

Yet, there is an unwritten end of the saying, spoken to brothers and sisters and omnics in arms across the globe. Fareeha tells him Ana started saying it, a stickler for Latin and good old fashioned tradition, but it is Overwatch that made it their own and them which uphold it in memory of all those they have loved and lost.

 

“ _Ibi de gloria mundi, et his qui te diligunt._

 

Here is the glory of the world, and those who love you.”

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading!
> 
> the roleplay on which this fic is based has an associated playlist which you can find [here](https://8tracks.com/helo572/the-linger-of-pain-reaper76). i may publish the thread someday, stayed tuned x


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